


The Pizza Fairy

by Lady_Saddlebred



Series: Lessons They Never Taught Me [42]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 23:34:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15695643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Saddlebred/pseuds/Lady_Saddlebred
Summary: small unbeta'ed PWP.  All mistakes are mine.





	The Pizza Fairy

Title: The Pizza Fairy

Author: Lady_Saddlebred (cdelapin@yahoo.com)

Archive: Yes, please

Category: Q/O, Alternate Reality

Rating: G

Series: Lessons They Never Taught Me in School (archived)

 

DISCLAIMER: George Lucas owned everything, until he sold it to Disney. We own nothing, just playing in his playground.

 

Previous fics in series: all on AO3 website:  
Early Admission  
Lessons They Never Taught Me in School  
Lessons That Were Never on the Syllabus  
That Which Does Not Go to School  
Rainy Day Recess   
Of Popcorn and Pine Trees  
Fit to Print  
Daffodils  
Spring Cotillion  
Is That a Lightsaber I See Before Me?  
A Pen for Your Thoughts  
When I Was Your Age  
Partners  
Mum’s the Word  
Best Laid Plans  
An Apple for Teacher  
What’s for Supper?  
Pacifier  
Snow Angels  
One Man’s Junk  
May I Have This Dance?  
Four Green Fields  
Too Darned Hot  
Pomp and Circumstances  
Summertime Blues  
Blow the Man Down  
Post-Graduate Studies  
Crossing the Pond  
Moving On  
Picnic in the Park  
Family Matters  
Meeting of the Moms  
Ebony and Ivories  
A Less Than Perfect Storm  
Chicken Soup  
Measuring Up  
The Drinking Game  
Rainy Day Recess Revisited  
Step It Out  
Souls Mirrored

 

~*~*~*~

 

Ben sighed as he stared at his computer screen for the zillionth time. It had been a hell of a week, and they were making precious little progress toward Friday’s deadline. Hence, the all-nighter. His team was exhausted and more than a little testy, to the point of sniping at each other (and at him) in something less than the usual good-natured ribbing that was just part of the normal workday. He’d felt a bit like a kindergarten monitor, breaking up a growing number of infantile spats. 

*And* he was starving. Lunch had been a quick grab-it-and-go from The Dex, and hadn’t been anything to write home about. He recalled the excellent sandwiches, salads and desserts the on-campus café normally offered. Unfortunately, their cook had gone out prematurely for maternity leave, and the current temp was less than imaginative when it came to menus. Dinner had been pretty much forgotten.

He glanced up at the wall clock. Wow, one a.m. No wonder he was hungry. Quinn would be in bed by now. Tomorrow (no, *today*) was a busy schedule for the Biology Department chairman, starting with an 8:00 lab. Oh well, the weekend was coming. If he lived that long…

He groaned as colorful invectives in several languages filled the air from the computer room. Sounded like Thanh was near the end of her rope. They all needed a break. The Dex was open 24/7 – even if the food wasn’t up to its usual standard, it would be a welcome respite. Some fresh air and change of scenery would do them all a world of good.

~*~*~*~

The tired, frustrated programmers filed down the hall toward the front door of the Mineral Sciences Building, muttering imprecations under their collective breaths about the work still to be done. Ben sympathized; he’d faced more than one dusk-until-dawn as a team-of-one at the Academy before he’d finally called it quits, only to find himself right back on campus again a few months later, now heading up a crack unit of computer analysts for First Call. Talk about karma…

A pimply-faced kid in a pizza delivery uniform stood outside the entry door to the Mineral Sciences building, a half-dozen boxes in one hand, cell phone in the other. He brightened as Ben opened the door. “Hey, perfect timing!”

“Can we help you?” Ben asked guardedly, blocking the entrance with his body. He felt the others slide into a silent support circle behind him. No way this dude was getting past them into the building in the middle of the night! 

“Got a delivery for-” The kid consulted his phone. “First Call? That you?”

Ben tried not to drool at the smells emanating from the boxes a few short feet away. “I don’t understand,” he said slowly. “We didn’t order any pizza…” He glanced over his shoulder at the others, all of whom shook their heads. But he couldn’t miss their hungry-eyed looks. 

“Maybe Fred called it in?” Tory suggested hopefully. 

“Sounds like something he’d do,” Thanh agreed. 

“Shame to let it go to waste,” Paul added, with a wry grin. 

Ben shrugged philosophically. They needed food. “How much do we owe you?” he asked, reaching for his wallet.

The kid shook his head. “Already paid for, including delivery and a real nice tip,” he said, holding out the boxes. “Enjoy!” He tipped his cap and walked back to his waiting car.

“Shit, man, what are we waiting for? Let’s eat!” Tory said, grabbing the top couple of boxes. “Last one upstairs gets nothing but crusts!”

Hunger gave wings to tired feet and minds.

~*~*~*~

Ben practically crawled through the garage door shortly after dawn, vaguely wondering how he’d managed to make it home in one piece. He couldn’t remember when he’d ever been this tired. 

“Morning, love,” Quinn called cheerfully from the kitchen. “Tough night?”

Ben waved in his partner’s general direction. Quinn met him at the foot of the stairs with a kiss and a hug, and a big glass of orange juice. “Mm, thanks.” Ben sipped gratefully, leaning into the strong arms that reached to prop him up. Amused blue eyes regarded him. “What? Never seen a dead man walking before?”

“Not quite this gone, no,” Quinn admitted. “Bed’s all ready. Grab a shower and get some sleep. I’ll be home about six. There’s beef stew in the crockpot.” He gently shoved Ben toward the stairs. “Can ye be makin’ it upstairs all right, or do I need to be carryin’ ye?” he said, half-seriously.

“I can make it. I think,” Ben said, around a huge yawn. Then, “Hey, speaking of food, thanks for the pizzas.”

Quinn’s face was the picture of innocence. “Dunno what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Uh huh.” 

Quinn leaned down to kiss the top of Ben’s head. “Must have been the pizza fairy.” He shrugged into his Harris Tweed blazer and picked up his car keys. “Off to the salt mines. Sleep well, love.”

~*~*~*~

“Wasn’t me,” Fred protested the next day. “I’d have sent Indian food. Pizza’s not my thing.”

“Then who the heck was it?” Ben asked. “*I* didn’t do it, but sure wish I’d thought of it. Best I could come up with at that hour of the night was the campus café. We were on our way there when the guy showed up.”

“And you just ate what he brought? Not knowing who sent it? Could have been poisoned, dude! Have you no sense of self-preservation?” Fred teased.

“Not at that hour of the night, running on fumes, no,” Ben retorted, with a grin. “I’d have eaten cardboard.” Looking back, it had been the best tasting cardboard he’d had in ages. “Actually,” he added, “I think I know who sent it.”

“Sent what?” Teresa Rivera asked, walking into Fred’s office. “Nice work on meeting the deadline, Ben. The Dean was very pleased when we spoke just now.” She gave him a warm smile. “Sent what?” she asked again.

Fred shook his head in mock dismay. “Some pizza delivery guy showed up in the middle of the night on campus with a bunch of pies, *pre-paid*, and this doofus just took them! *Says* they figured we’d sent ‘em, but it sure wasn’t me.”

Teresa cocked an eyebrow. “Were they any good?”

Ben nodded. “Yeah. And believe me, we needed the carbs. We were all on the verge of jumping out a window. It wasn’t pretty.”

“Well, then sounds like it was a most propitious moment,” Teresa agreed. “Any notion where they came from? It wasn’t me,” she added quickly. “But does seem as if a thank-you note might be in order.”

Ben smiled. “Actually, I do have an idea,” he said slowly. “*And* a way to return the favor.”

~*~*~*~

Quinn hummed an old Irish folk tune as he walked down the hall from the lab to his office. Classes were full this semester, and Ani was on the verge of declaring his major in biology, which gave him, as the lad’s counselor, an inordinate amount of pride and pleasure. 

He flipped on the overhead light and stared. In the middle of his desk was an enormous bottle of Jameson’s Irish Whiskey, tied up with a big blue bow. A small envelope addressed to himself stuck out from underneath, in a handwriting he didn’t recognize. What the-

“Jim?” he called to his teaching assistant across the hall.

“Yes sir?” came the prompt response.

“A moment, please?” Quinn asked politely, and the young man immediately came to his side. Quinn pointed at the bottle. “What do you make of that?”

“Looks like somebody knows your favorite brew,” Jim said, straight-faced.

“Smart arse,” Quinn muttered. “Where did it come from, d’ye ken?”

“No idea, Professor,” Jim replied. “I was in the library all morning.” He walked over to the desk. “There’s a note,” he said helpfully.

Quinn pulled the envelope out from under the bottle. 

“Thanks for the pizzas. Next time, remember not everyone is allergic to anchovies. Add some dandelion wine and we’ll have a party.” It was signed with a grinning emoticon and the First Call logo.

~end~


End file.
